


sargasso

by TrebleTwenty



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: M/M, Poetry, wasn't sure whether to tag foil but better safe than sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 10:52:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11553684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrebleTwenty/pseuds/TrebleTwenty
Summary: he is a storm and you are a shipwreck





	sargasso

**Author's Note:**

> I don't Do poetry but this was for class so have my nonsense

 

_Sargasso_

 

 

 

I.

When he came the sun was shining, warm on your skin like his smile.

He took your hand and asked you to sail away with him and so you did;

his hand warm, your heart warm, the sky soft blue and cloud free.

He said he was your biggest fan.

 

 

II.

Aimed for the line between the sea and the sky you unfurl your sails and let him be the wind that takes you.

He has a very strong grip.

 

 

III.

When he came the sun was shining bright in the sky with no clouds and it was hot, too hot, with sweat dripping down your forehead and dampening your collar and plastering the tiny wispy hairs at the back of your neck to your skin, and he took your hand and pulled you along next to him like a current pulling you under, and his hand was hot like a brand but you still let him lead you, because he said he was your biggest fan and his eyes were cold and it soothed the heat.

 

 

IV.

He holds onto your hand with his fingers on the pulse jumping and fluttering inside your wrist like he’s waiting for it to stop.

 

 

V.

If your heart breaks and there’s nobody around to hear it, does it still make a sound?

 

 

VI.

With his foot on the back of the friend he once was, you stand on opposite sides of a battlefield, an ocean between you, yawning wider with every harsh word he rips from his throat like gravel. How long has this monster been lurking underneath his skin? Dark things slip by underneath the water, circling, circling, broken trust here and longing there, waiting for a sign of weakness so they can drag you down into the depths. If you’re not careful you might let them.

He’s still got a vice grip on your heart, and it tightens every time he laughs.

 

 

VII.

He used to be a lighthouse,

but he’s broken the bulb,

hoping you might dash yourself to pieces on his rocks.

 

 

VIII.

His mocking laughter echoes in your ears every time you spot his eyes in a crowd or see his firebrand hair and you feel like you might drown. He’s an anchor and he’s dragging you down, holding you in place as you try to flee, whirlpool, riptide, your own personal Bermuda triangle, clutching at your ankles as you try to kick free. Sometimes you wish he’d just let you be but if he did that he might never come back and. What if he needs you?

 

What if he doesn’t?

 

 

IX.

Maybe,

the first one he drowned

was himself.

 

 

X.

his hand is still warm but this time he lets go

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> format inspired by 'the house' by warsan shire [https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/90733/the-house-57daba5625f32]


End file.
